Opposite End of Things
by alreadyinuse
Summary: DracoHarry, postwar, postHogwarts, romance. Rated for language. Better summary inside ch1.


_A Draco/Harry postwar & postHogwarts romance story. Originally starting last year for nanowrimo, and put aside due to Dignosco Perturbatio. This one is entirely mine, and written in my spare time only, but ought to be updated fairly often. Whether or not the characters behave remains to be seen._

_After working with Draco during the war, Hermione thinks she understands Draco's reasoning and like any well meaning, bothersome, nosy friend, she interferes. And, of course, she just might be wrong. Draco isn't going to thank her for it, although Harry might. Basically it's my take on the same overdone (but still ohsoverycute) plot. D/H, mentions of Blaise/Hermione and others._

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"How do you know he won't be glad to see you?"

Draco stared at the young woman opposite him, for once at a total lack of what to say.

"I'm serious Draco. Everyone…"

"No one knows anything," Draco interrupted. "They only think they do, and I would quite prefer it to remain that way. No interference by anyone and that includes you."

"But – "

"No buts, Granger. The subject is closed."

Hermione bit down on her bottom lip in aggravation. Draco only called her 'Granger' when he was irked with her; it had been that way since three months into the war. The fact that they were sitting together now did not surprise her, even before Draco's stance became 'public' fodder she had guessed. She also believed she knew _why _he had first admitted to it, even if he would never say.

"If that is what you want, Draco," she sighed. "I hope you realise that leaves me no choice."

_That does **not** sound as though it will bode well,_ Draco thought with vexation. "Pray tell, how is that?"

As if he did not know.

Still, Hermione gave Draco her sweetest smile as she nervously rubbed her palms against her thighs under the table. "You owe me," she said softly.

Draco's back stiffened, and he took a deep breath as he fought hard to keep from shouting at her. Or cursing her. Possibly both. "What?"

"You heard me," Hermione said, her voice a bit louder now, but still gentle. "You owe me a single boon. I wish to claim it now."

_Fuck, shit, damn, arse, wanker, cock. _Draco exhaled loudly, trying to keep himself from saying any of those things aloud. A battle he lost when he saw Potter walking toward their table with determination. "Fuck."

"If I thought you would I just might have asked for that already, and you would be spared," Hermione grinned.

Draco snorted, his lips curling upward in amusement. Just as Potter reached the table Draco stood, bowing to Hermione, his amusement forgotten in the close proximity of...

"Hermione?" Harry asked, eyes darting between the two of them.

"Your saviour arrives and spares you the ear searing tirade which I have every intention of still giving you," Draco said dryly. Only the fact that Potter seemed annoyed at his words made him feel in the faintest better, and he sneered slightly at him before turning back to Hermione. "As you wish," he said bowing again before taking his leave.

He could _feel _those green eyes boring into the back of his head and he grimaced to himself, knowing he had just agreed to something that would cause him to end of trouble, and a lot of contact with the man he had been hoping to avoid.

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Harry watched Malfoy leaving, unable to tear his gaze away. The animosity Harry felt from the other man was near tangible, causing Harry to sigh as he shook his head. He wished he understood what it was Malfoy was thinking, but he never slipped, never allowed a moment where Harry could guess – or even ask.

He turned back to the table, startled to find Hermione studying him. He raised a brow at her in defence. "What?"

"Hello to you too, Harry. I am fine, thank you for asking. I would ask how you are in return, but I can see it for myself, so not point in asking."

Harry's mouth opened to a slight 'o' as he flushed. "Oh?"

It was all Hermione could do to keep from laughing at the embarrassment so evident on Harry's face but she spared her friend. "Indeed, it is quite obvious that you are suffering from an acute lack of manners," she said primly.

Harry laughed half in relief and partly in genuine amusement. "My deepest apologies Hermione," Harry said somewhat formally as he bowed his head at her in mock submission. "Please do forgive me."

Hermione eyed him severely for another minute before she cracked, grinning at him and waving her hand. "Fine, fine. You are forgiven, just don't do it again!"

"Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am, of course not ma'am," Harry replied, bobbing his head and laughing.

"If you are quite done," she giggled at him before turning serious, "what are you doing here? You chased off Draco before I was done grilling him."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't _chase _him off at all. He just looked fit to hex you, which I suppose is no new thing, so I came over to see what was wrong is all." He looked at the table, avoiding Hermione's eyes as he picked at some invisible thing on the tablecloth.

Sighing, Hermione propped her head up by leaning her elbows on the table. "Harry…" She waited, staring at the waves of unmanageable black hair on top of Harry's head, waiting for him to look at her. When he did, she smiled gently at him. He was a good man, a good person; her sweetest friend. But sometimes… she wanted to smash him over that head of his and knock his brain gears loose.

"We are not in school anymore, you know." When Harry made to interrupt her, she held up a hand and waited to continue until he fell silent again. "I know you know that, and I know you say you don't hate _anyone,_ but your actions say things that perhaps you don't realise they do."

Harry exhaled a deep breath. "My actions? How have I been anything other than polite, Hermione? In fact, I go out of my way to be polite to Malfoy, which is more than I can say for him!"

"Yes, you are polite Harry. Disgustedly so. You would never treat me or …"

"Don't say it Hermione," Harry said quietly. "Please don't."

"I won't," she said softly. "Although that too is something else you have to talk about Harry. I _know _you don't want to, but when you do, I'm here, okay?" Hermione worried her bottom lip, wondering if she should even bother talking to anyone else at all today. She had upset Draco earlier and now she had upset Harry as well. "And as for Draco…"

"I know Hermione, and I thank you for that," Harry smiled at her as he reached out and covered her hand with his. "I know what you are saying about Malfoy as well, and I know it is important to you. I promise I will try harder."

"I don't want you to _try, _Harry. I want you to do," Hermione grinned back at him, relieved she had been able to avoid disconcerting Harry further.

"Yeah, well. There is only so much friendly I can do with Draco Malfoy. He hates me, in case you forgot. We've just always been… on the opposite end of things."

"Not as much as anyone thinks, Harry, and you would be surprised how similar you two are," Hermione replied, narrowing her eyes in thought as her mind abruptly switched gears. "Although, you just gave me the perfect idea."

Harry blinked at her. Hermione's sudden shift in conversations, her sitting here with Malfoy, and now giving her 'an idea' did not exactly sound as though it promised to go well for him at all. Especially given what the majority of their conversation thus far had been about. "Oh? How is that then?"

"Don't worry, I'll tell you later. Right now, I need to go and get started, plans must be made, lists written… there is so much to do. I was just _waiting _for an idea to come to me and you did it! Perfect Harry, utterly perfect."

"Tell me I should not be afraid, Hermione. Because right now, I am."

She laughed in reply, and as she stood, Harry did too. "Do not be afraid Harry," she smiled. "Be terrified." She giggled and stood on her toes to kiss Harry on the cheek.

Harry laughed, a deep and warm sound that pleased Hermione greatly; he didn't do it nearly enough as far as she was concerned. "Have it your way Hermione, I am completely and utterly terrified – of _you._"

"As you well should be. Now be polite and tell me goodbye and that you will behave yourself," she admonished, hazel eyes sparkling in mirth.

"I always behave myself," Harry retorted, still grinning down at Hermione. "And hey, I don't have to say goodbye, do I? Where are you off to? I can go with you, it is not as though I am doing anything here and the last damn thing I want is, well…" he trailed off, waving his hand at the people at the nearby tables, all of who were listening and watching to everything with an unembarrassed ease.

He sighed, wrinkling his nose slightly at the attention. _I do not deserve it, _he thought, snorting in derision before shaking it off with a shrug and turning his attention solely back to Hermione.

"Well I don't need any of your help just now," she was saying carefully. "Although I can think of one thing that would be most helpful."

Without permission, Harry's lips moved and he was nodding at Hermione. "Sure, name it." _No, no, no!_

"Stay out of the way and don't ask any questions, and remember I love you and want you to be happy."

"I can promise to stay out of your way, but I don't think I can promise to not ask questions," Harry replied, slightly taken aback by Hermione's shifting mind-set today. "And of course I know you love me."

"And I know you love me," Hermione countered. "There's a flowing of love between us, making questions unnecessary."

"This goes back to the whole 'I fear you' thing. You realise this, don't you?"

"I do. But I think love conquers all," she said, smiling sweetly at Harry.

In reply, Harry just stared back at her blankly. "Tell me that is not your theme, and please note the lack of question in my voice."

"If it is, you have one month to try and change my mind," Hermione replied, voice sweet as she smiled at him.

"Hermione! You can't just – "

"I need to go Harry, Ginny's waiting on me. Unless you would like to come with me? She would love to see you and you did want to help…" she trailed off, leaving her question hanging in the air, inwardly laughing at the stricken expression on Harry's face.

"Of course I want to help Hermione," Harry replied hesitantly. Truth be told, Ginny made him _nervous _and while he did want to help, he really did not want to help with Ginny being around.

"Do stop looking at me like that - as though I just kicked you," Hermione laughed. "I would not force you into Ginny's company just now. Or at all, really, because I don't blame you. Beside, it would be too hard to get any work done right now with her trying to physically attack you, and I need her help more than I need yours. You can take these," she said, ruffling through her back briefly before pulling out a thin stack of papers with a triumphant smile, "to Draco."

Harry took the papers, raising a brow at her. Bring the papers to Malfoy? "No, really Hermione. Who do you need me to bring these to?" He knew she was not joking, but Merlin, he wished she was.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Draco. Malfoy. You know, tall, blonde, grey eyes, beautiful but sarcastically deadly?"

"Hermione!"

She shrugged. "He is stunning and we both know it. He also is less than pleased with me at the moment, although he will get over it. I would just prefer not to go into a long explantation that I have no time for just now, and he will undoubtedly want one. And if I explain to him, I will have to explain to you, and really. I can't be bothered just now. There is so much to do and we have so little time to get it all done."

"And if he's less than pleased with you right now, what makes you think he will be any happier with you when he realises you've sent me? Provided he listens to me without throwing hexes first," Harry said, only half-teasing.

"Harry."

_God. When did she start sounding like Mrs. Weasley? _Harry thought, wincing. "Yeah?"

"He will _not_ hex you. Besides, if he wants to give you a hard time, just tell him 'Hermione said remember your boon'."

"Bloody easy for you to say," Harry snorted. "I don't want to fight with anyone, Hermione. That includes Malfoy, but we have done nothing _but _for … well, years. Since we met. You know this as well as I do – as well as everyone in _here _does," he said, raising his voice slightly. If he thought to guilt anyone into embarrassment however, it did not work and he sighed again. He would never be used to the sheer amount of attention not dying had brought him.

Hermione laughed wryly. "Yes, because I never heard a single 'Mudblood' out of him during school, or any other painful, rude, and frankly _Malfoy_ thing from him."

"My point exactly, Hermione," Harry answered in reply. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and took Hermione by the arm, steering her out of the Three Broomsticks and outside into the shade. "Come to think of it, that is one of those things you have always refused to talk about. Why you speak to Malfoy and him to you."

"You mean you noticed we talk?" she rejoined sarcastically. "I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. Moreover, I have never _refused_ to talk about it. Besides, you know as much as I do."

Harry narrowed his eyes but took a deep breath and thought. It was true that he had not given Hermione speaking with Draco Malfoy much thought when he had first noticed it. Malfoy showing up at an Order meeting at barely surprised him, but he had not cared to feel about much of anything at the time.

As he recalled, Moody had questioned Malfoy and Malfoy had allowed it. Harry thought back further, probing his memory.

"You are a Malfoy," Moody spat, spittle landing near Draco's feet in a puddle.

Draco had merely raised a brow, the only part of his body that even reacting to Moody's crude frustration. "How kind of you to notice," he had drawled in reply. "Was it the aristocratic cheekbones that gave it away, or the pale like ice yet hot as flame good looks?"

"You fucking little pouf," Moody growled, stopped from reaching over and probably choking Malfoy only by Dumbledore's raised hand.

"Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said, "can you tell us why we should believe your information and why we should believe you?"

Harry remembered Draco had set eyes on everyone in the room at that point, and he had stared back just as hard when he had come under that scrutiny.

Harry held Malfoy's gaze, almost in challenge – a challenge he lost when Malfoy smiled at him and said, "I have my reasons."

"Your reasons –" Moody began, furiously.

"Are good enough for me," Dumbledore had interrupted firmly. Harry broke away from Malfoy's look then, stunned from all he had heard and seen.

"Believe it, you fucking creep," Draco had replied cheerfully to Moody. "If nothing else, I play to win. I will win here."

"You know his reasons," Harry replied to Hermione, after several moments of silence.

"I might," she agreed. "Although he has never said."

"You were always smarter than the rest of us," Harry grinned. "He had said he wanted to win." Hermione nodded as Harry continued. "That is only a single reason; there is more. He said _reasons. _And Malfoy always has reasons."

"No one else can answer you. Only Draco," Hermione said, smiling as she waved the stack of papers at Harry in challenge.

"Only Malfoy," Harry echoed as he took the papers and smiled back.

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Harry stood outside the door to Malfoy's building for quite a while before he screwed his face up and went in. A no-nonsense witch with greying hair told him that he could find Mister Malfoy in the third room to the right down the hall on the left, and her expression made it plain that if there was going to be trouble that Harry would pay for it.

Scowling slightly still at the thought that _he _would be the one to cause any trouble, Harry raised his hand and knocked sharply on the door. When no answer was forthcoming, he knocked again. This time he heard a muffled curse and a drawer slamming, then quiet.

Harry leaned forward slightly just as the door opened. He scrambled to stay upright, inwardly cussing at his inanity and inelegance.

"_Potter?"_

Taking a deep breath, Harry strengthened his resolve without question, and nodded at Malfoy. "That would be me, yes."

A breath span passed as Malfoy raised a brow at him, and then: "Witty as ever," came the derisive reply. "Now that we have both established that you are indeed Potter, might we now move on to _why _there is a _Potter _standing in my doorway? Or shall I just assume I missed the memo for 'bring your nightmare to work' day?"

And Harry forgot his desire to know _why _and _reasoning _and that he almost _cared _enough to want to know, and with a snort he handed the papers from Hermione over to Malfoy and would have left it at that before leaving himself, had his escape route not been suddenly cut off.

"Darling, I am sorry to bother you, but I need to ask you… _Potter?"_

Because Harry's afternoon couldn't have gotten any worse, now Pansy Parkinson stood between him and leaving with an expression that said both 'cat and canary' and 'what is that awful smell? … oh, I _see_.'

"Miss Parkinson," Harry managed with a semi-polite nod of his head.

She, of course, ignored him completely and turned sympathy-filled eyes to Malfoy. "What is _he _doing here?" she asked, as though Harry was not there, standing with his hands in his pockets to keep from … well, to probably keep himself from strangling her. Or Malfoy.

Malfoy merely raised a brow at him in question. "Hermione sent me," Harry replied with a shrug. "She told me to tell you something about a boon."

The look on Malfoy's face at those words was near comical, and to his surprise he was interested, again, in something to do with Malfoy. He could not really recall the last time he cared much about Malfoy… or most anyone, really.

"Granger? What the fuck would that Mu – "

"Pansy." Malfoy's voice was sharp, cold – it made Harry think of the thick layer of ice on a pond, or perhaps the heavy, sharply pointed ice cycles one found hanging off of eaves … the kind that would kill if you happened to stand under it too long.

The fact slowly registered that Malfoy – _Malfoy – _had just stood up for Hermione, and to one of his own … Slytherins. Harry hesitated to use the word 'friend' for he doubted many Slytherins held that title with one another, but regardless of what Pansy Parkinson was to Malfoy – both her and Harry understand with crystal clarity what Malfoy had said.

With a clenched jaw, Pansy nodded to Draco. "Very well. I will speak to you later then. Edna and Charles are waiting you in room four, make sure nothing… _unsavoury _keeps you. They would not want to be kept waiting."

Harry nearly grinned at the extremely obvious barb in her voice, and he bowed his head at her as she passed. He received only a scowl for his troubles, and he turned back to Malfoy still smirking. "So…" he said, raising a brow. "Hermione wanted me to delivery those to you."

"Which you have done. Good boy, I am glad you did not tax yourself, hopefully you can use your ever so well known knack for death defiance to find your way out," Malfoy replied, turning his back to Harry.

For a moment, it was all Harry could do to only stare. Malfoy never walked away from him, it had always been Harry to turn away, to win by backing down, to not _care. _For Malfoy to do it surprised him to say the very least. "Why did you join our side?"

While that was not quite what Harry had meant to ask, he blurted it out almost unthinkingly but he would not have called it back even if he could have. He _was_ curious. He wanted to know what Hermione saw in Draco, what Dumbledore had seen in Draco. He wanted to know what it was that had so changed Draco from the boy he had been from even their fifth year, to the man he had saw during the War… and the man he was now.

The man that he was now, that had turned around so fast Harry had a brief moment to envy him – had Harry made a move like that he would have most definitely fallen over – before grey eyes pinned him to his feet.

"You think you have any right to ask me what my reasons were? You could not have cared less for how long, your little girlfriend mentions it and suddenly you are eager as a crup to hear about it. That is fucking crap, Potter. Even for you."

Harry could not help it – he gaped. Literally and utterly gaped at Malfoy's words; the pure amount of venom behind it. Before he could form a reply, Malfoy had turned his back again and continued speaking.

"I will merely tolerate your presence for Hermione's sake. I owe her, and you shall be my means to repay that debt. I do not expect either of us to like it – in fact; I expect the exact opposite. I do suppose that means my debt will be repaid two fold. I rather like that," he said, his voice now a bland sort of conversational tone that Harry had never heard the other man use before.

"I – "

"I have a meeting now – some of us work, you know – so you really do need to find your way out and go do whatever it is that you do all day. I will be finished by seven this evening. You may meet me back here then, and we can deal with Hermione's paperwork then," Draco said, having interrupted Harry very neatly.

Finally he turned back around to face Harry, and it was no less than a little disturbing to see the utter and complete blankness on Malfoy's face. "Good bye."

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Draco was not certain how long Potter had stood there after he left him standing there, mouth open and emerald eyes blinking, but Draco was too angry to care. He had wanted – for years he had wanted! – for Potter ask why Draco had done what he had done. For Potter to understand he was _wrong _about Draco, that Draco was just as brave – almost, anyway – and as good a person. That Potter was _wrong _about Draco. That he was _wrong._

But Potter simply did not care.

And this infuriated Draco much more than he cared to admit, because _he _cared. He cared that Potter did not care, that Potter could rise above their 'rivalry' and that Potter was adored.

He admitted to himself that he cared about _Potter._

He was not certain how that had come to be, but somewhere between the barbs and the spite was born lust, and he supposed it made a warped sort of sense as he thought about it; after all, like is the opposite of dislike, right? Lust the other side of hate. He supposed too that he did _dislike _Potter and maybe even _hate _him a whole lot.

Which, quite frankly, left Draco in a nasty situation.

Fucked.

He took a deep breath before entering the board room, knowing not only as he going to have to be more careful than he usually was, for most none of them trusted Draco Malfoy even _now_, but that Pansy would be not only furious with him for dismissing and talking down to her; for defending Granger and in front of Potter, but that she _knew._

Well, she thought she knew. Draco had never admitted anything to anyone other than himself.

_The utter fucking nerve, _he thought, still angry. _I have wanted him to ask me that for so long… and I want to answer him. Fucking bastard, wanker, git, tosser, arse, fuck, fuck, FUCK._

"And finally we are graced with the presence of Mister Malfoy. Shall we then?"


End file.
